


business as always

by sweetsinnerchild



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-07-19 15:41:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7367587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetsinnerchild/pseuds/sweetsinnerchild
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grillby is the CEO of a company, and Sans is an intern.</p><p>Or, how I used my business major degree to write porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> based off creampiesummer's [art](http://creampiesummer.tumblr.com/post/144997603212/just-had-a-thought-i-think-youd-appreciate)
> 
> i need more sansby in my life

They say Grillby’s was one of the most successful monster-owned companies on the surface, even more so when it was kept private. Monster products for monsters and by monsters, and monster pride was what kept the company so successful, in the sea of human corporations. Some say that it even held a share in the MTT brand itself, though that particular rumour was neither confirmed nor denied by the company’s PR team.

Given its success, some would have thought that the man in charge of it all, Grillby himself, would boast about his accomplishments; instead Grillby had remained secluded away from the prying eyes of the media, refusing any and all interviews or photoshoots. The most that the public would ever know about the man from hurried pictures taken by opportunistic journalists was that he was a flame elemental, and he wore glasses.

With all that said, none of it explained how Grillby himself was currently bending Sans over his very wide, very sturdy hardwood table and pinning his hand down against the (heat-proof) papers of the latest quarter’s performance Sans had brought in.

Perhaps it started with the way Sans had immediately been starstruck with Grillby’s calm and commanding demeanour from the moment he had first been introduced to the CEO as one of the accepted interns in the first internship programme the company had opened; or it began with how Grillby’s secretary, a red bird monster whose name Sans can’t quite remember, had fallen sick and Sans had volunteered a tad too enthusiastically to fill in for the position. Or maybe it began with how he would look forward to every time Grillby called him in to talk about his future, his career plans, or…

Or it was how Grillby had grabbed his hand one day while he was putting the cup of coffee down, leant over the wide, wide desk and kissed him.

It wasn’t right. Workplace ethics and textbooks cautioned against it. Hell, even he himself knew better.

Sans threw caution to the wind and kissed Grillby right back.

And now they were here, two months later, with Sans shuddering as the Grillby’s own heat seeps in past his uniform and into his very marrow, as Grillby trails a gentle hand down the curve of Sans’ spine and hooks his fingers into loops of Sans’ pants.

“The report, Sans,” Grillby says, far too composed as he’s tugging Sans’ pants down past his hip. “You were saying?”

“You’re going bankrupt,” Sans says cheekily; only to suck in a gasp as his pants fall to the floor and a hand wraps firmly around the base of his spine.

“Be serious,” Grillby chides, even though _he’s_ the one with a hand down Sans’ metaphorical pants.

Fine, fine. Two can play at this game.

“revenues are down by seven percent,“ he starts, reading off the numbers on the report he’s lying on, and is rewarded with a gentle twist of Grillby’s hand. He wriggles against the grip for more friction but the other monster’s hand is firm. “general sales may have been affected by the current recession, but closer analysis shows that the processed food segment is doing comparatively poorly.”

“Is that so,” Grillby encourages him, as he strokes up and down Sans’ spine, a gentle undulating motion that makes Sans want to melt into the sensation - but he _knows_ that there are more things to come. “Why?“

“the new ‘hot cat’ product was a bust,” Sans says, and takes advantage of the lax grip to push himself backwards. The way Grillby’s hand chafes roughly against his vertebrae was much better; and the way he grinds down against the packed heat of his employer’s crotch was divine. He feels Grillby’s other hand tighten on his own.

“Explain,” Grillby says, his voice crackling just the slightest bit.

Sans grins.

“it has humour value, i’ll give them that,” Sans says, “but that’s more suited for a special occasion product, not a new product line.” Grillby’s hand finally moves down to his ilium, rubbing heated circles into sensitive bone, and Sans shudders against him. “c-customers were found to prefer the generic hot dog product.”

“I see,” Grillby says. He pauses, before deliberately grinding back into the exposed jut of Sans’ pelvis.

_Now_ they were getting somewhere.

“costs went up by twenty,” Sans continues, breathless, as Grillby removes the hand on his hip, as he hears the telltale sound of a zipper undone. There’s an almost-uncomfortable degree of warmth pressing up against his tailbone, grinding against it, and he doesn’t need to guess at what that was. “main proportion of increase is attributed to the mtt brand’s expenditures. the merchandise department is producing more products than anyone can or want to buy them.“

“What would you recommend?” Grillby murmurs, and Sans has heard the underlying crackle of lust enough times in his employer’s voice to know what it means.

“i’d recommend,” and he twists his magic to form an entrance, right where the head of Grillby’s own cock was pressed up against. “you to fuck me right now.”

A beat, or two.

“That sounds like a reasonable suggestion,” Grillby says, low and amused.

Sans opens his mouth to reply, to make another witty comment - but instead he moans when Grillby eases himself in, with the way his magic stretches to accommodate the other monster’s wide girth. Grillby gives him a few moment to adjust before he starts moving, pulling in and out with a steady glide, pinning Sans’ body to the desk. Sans whines, a needy noise that builds low in his throat, and pushes back with every thrust - he wants Grillby to go faster, he wants Grillby to fill him up and stay there, he wants, he wants.

He wants Grillby to pound him hard and fast into his own desk, to melt his iron will and composure. He wants Grillby to make him scream and let the whole world know; he wants Grillby to be proud of him, proud of them.

But he also knows that Grillby won’t compromise his company’s reputation over a relationship with a barely-qualified intern, and that whatever was between them could never be revealed to the public.

So he bites down on his arm as Grillby picks up the pace, practically bending over Sans and trapping him with wonderful, wonderful heat; he muffles his moans and whimpers as Grillby himself remains quiet save for the slightest of crackling and hisses unique to fire elementals. He doesn’t want to ever give Grillby the idea that Sans would be a problem, because he won’t be, he understands, really -

“I want to hear you,” Grillby suddenly rasps, and his voice wrecked with unadulterated want, “Sans, let me hear you - “

And the surprise is enough to let him tilt his head to the side, to let Grillby hear and know that all the sounds Sans was making was for him, because of him, and _please, Grillby, more, faster, please -_

Grillby, ever considerate, acquiesces. 

(When Sans comes, he thinks of a world where he could kiss Grillby outside of these four walls.)

(When Grillby comes, a burst of heat rolling through the both of them like a huge tidal wave, he thinks of a future where Sans was no longer associated with his company, only with Grillby.)

But for now, they (both) settle for what they can.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> requested by an anon on by tumblr, here ya go
> 
> shout out to kare-valgon for being so cool to make me fanart! [here](http://kare-valgon.tumblr.com/post/147095586899/day-19-in-formal-wear-ceo-grillby-and-intern) and [here](http://kare-valgon.tumblr.com/post/149559372609/uhmm-that-for-now-isnt-very-reassuring-im). they're a great artist, go look at their stuff
> 
> now onto the sin

The good thing about Grillby’s desk is that it’s huge. 

As the CEO, it’s almost always a given to have a big desk. While he has never been one for status symbols, this particular desk is the one indulgence he allowed himself, back when he finally had an office building of his own. He’s well aware that a prudent businessman should cut unnecessary costs - but the hardwood desk, sprayed with anti-flammable coating, is honestly worth every cent of his money. 

For one, he really needs the desk space to put all the documents he needs to sign. 

For another, the sight of Sans, of his second indulgence splayed out onto his desk and falling apart as Grillby fucks into him is always, always appreciated. 

The other thing about the desk is that it’s as big underneath, with plenty of space to stretch his legs. It’s also perfectly suited for Sans to kneel down on the plush carpeting of the floor, to lean forward and bury his skull between Grillby’s thighs, mouth tantalising inches away from his cock, for when Sans finally pulls down the zipper of his pants, curls his fingers around the molten shaft and _licks_. 

And see, the beauty of it is that Sans is hidden from view while Grillby is in plain sight. Anyone looking into the room while the door is open will see only the CEO, sitting at his desk, ever diligent at his work. They would be unaware of the skeleton under his desk, of Sans licking broader swathes up his cock, of the way soot spreads onto his mouth and tongue and the way he swallows it all down. They would never know how Grillby just reaches down and smears a gentle grey streak on the side of Sans’ mouth, all the while murmuring encouragement and praise. 

It’s exciting, thinking about how anyone could just walk in -

Right up until Gerson walks in.

“Where’s your little helper?” The turtle greets him jovially. 

Sans pulls himself off Grillby’s cock so fast the whiplash of cold air almost kills his erection.

“Gerson,” Grillby says, pushing himself towards his desk, hiding his exposed dick from one of his oldest friends. He feels the way Sans shuffles backwards, his movement muted by the carpet, another thing that Grillby is suddenly and immensely thankful for. “Y-you should have knocked.”

“Should have knocked? Are you getting stuffy on me?” Gerson says, drawing up a chair to sit in. “Me, the only monster here to ever see you in diapers - " 

"To be fair, I saw you too - ”

“The only one to support you when you decided running naked through Snowdin would be a test of endurance - ”

“You _dared_ me - ”

“Me!” Gerson emphasizes dramatically, waving his stick. “Grillby, I am disappointed." 

Something is shaking between his legs - with a jolt, he realises that Sans is silently laughing, muffling his mirth into the fabric of Grillby’s pants. The elemental flushes - something he hopes that Gerson cannot see and if he does, will attribute towards the teasing. 

What if Gerson hears Sans? What if the old turtle decided to walk around the table, and see the way Grillby is using his intern? What if he sees the way Sans flushes in shame, the way Grillby tries to keep his composure while his cock betrays him, fully erect as Sans takes it all into his mouth -

Suddenly, the thought becomes less terrifying and more exhilirating. Maybe it’s adrenaline, he thinks, or maybe it’s the risk that sends a jolt straight to his dick.

After all, with great risk comes great reward. He runs a business, he should know.

"Well,” Grillby says, leaning back into his chair and angling his foot to press his heel into the small of Sans’ back. He doesn’t look down, and hope that Sans will get the message. He is a smart boy after all. “How can I ever make it up to you?”

“A night out with the old bunch,” Gerson immediately says. “You actually think I’ll come in for _work_? Wahaha! Maybe in another thousand years.”

“You’ll be retired by then,” Grillby points out drily. He slides his foot further down, hooking Sans in and towards his crotch - all the while looking his friend in the face. His core is pulsing, liquid fire twisting and coursing through his body - and he doesn’t think he ever quite felt this excited, this alive. 

“Exactly,” Gerson says, triumphant, and Grillby feels the light touch of a skeleton hand on the inside of his clothed thigh. 

_Atta boy_. 

“So how about it,” Gerson says. Grillby feels the first flick of tongue against the base of his cock, quick and hesitant, as if for a taste. He shivers. “It’ll be like the old days! You, me, good old Gorey, and Gaster if he ever decides to get out of that lab." 

Another lick, another taste. Grillby keeps his hands above the desk - otherwise, he might just give the game away. 

"Only this time I’m not the bartender,” Grillby says after a pause, that he hopes Gerson will read as contemplation. 

“We’d mix your drinks, but we’ll always get your orders wrong,” Gerson admits, laughing heartily. “So you’ll do it yourself anyway!”

“Maybe,” Grillby allows, just as Sans allows himself to grow bolder, letting his tongue curl and linger. The elemental sits up straighter, pushing his hips down, grounding them in the seat of his chair. “When?”

“Tonight." 

Grillby sighs, long and controlled, disguising the shivers courtesy of Sans beginning to suck at the base of his cock. The skeleton’s other hand comes into play, lazily pulling at the head in slow, long strokes, apparently encouraged by the way Grillby isn’t kicking him away. He wonders how long Gerson will stay, how long he will have to enjoy this. 

"I’ve too much work this evening,” Grillby says, forcing stability and a note of regret into his voice. 

“Get your little helper to help you,” Gerson says, oblivious to the way Sans is slowly but surely moving his way up to the head of Grillby’s cock with kittenish licks, too light and teasing. “That’s what interns are for, wahaha!" 

“It’s confidential information,” Grillby objects. What would Gerson say if he actually knew what Grillby was using his intern for? “I-it’s not appropriate for his work level.“ 

“You’re the CEO,” Gerson points out. 

“Rules are rules,” Grillby says, like the huge hypocrite he is. 

Sans suddenly moves away, leaving him bereft of contact. He wants to look down, wants to know why Sans stopped, wants to grind up to chase after the contact where Sans should be - but looking down at his crotch when his phone is clearly on the table might be too much of a giveaway. 

“Let’s do tomorrow,” he offers instead. 

“Tomorrow,” Gerson grudgingly says, just as his phone begins to ring. “Who on earth - " 

Several things happen at once - Grillby suddenly feels a grip of cool magic around his soul, the weight of what felt like the world pinning him down against his chair; he feels Sans’ mouth wrapping around the head of his cock and taking it in. His body instinctively jerks, up and into Sans’ mouth - but Sans’ magic holds him down as Gerson picks up the phone. 

“Hello,” Gerson is saying as Grillby is clutching at the arms of his chair, “hello? Huh, they put down…" 

“Prank call?” Grillby chokes out, before coughing to cover up his stutter. He has an idea whose call it actually was, and would be impressed if not for the current steady glide of the culprit’s mouth on his cock distracting him. 

“Probably,” Gerson says. “Kids these days, thinking it would be annoying. Back in our days…" 

“We definitely were more creative,” Grillby agrees desperately. He leans forward, grabbing at the nearest stack of paper and his pen, hoping that Gerson will take the message. “At any rate…" 

“I’ll let you do your work,” Gerson says, getting up from the chair. “Don’t forget - " 

“Tomorrow,” Grillby says, nodding down at his paper. Things he needed to sign, perfect. “Close the door behind you when you leave, please." 

“Sure, sure,” Gerson agrees amiably. “Tomorrow,” he says, one last time, before the door swing shuts behind him. 

All at once, the vice grip around his soul dissipates and Sans begins to move faster, taking in what he can of Grillby’s cock. Grillby lets himself buck up into Sans’ head, lets his hips be pinned down by skeleton hands. He leans forward, bracing himself against the table and crushing his pen in his hand, shaking as Sans lets his canines scrape lightly down the shaft, as his flames begin to flicker out of control. 

“C-Coming,” he hisses out in warning. Sans doesn’t seem to heed it, only moving faster and faster. “Sa - Sans - " 

A final suck, tight around his shaft, and Grillby shudders against his desk. When he finally regains his bearings, Sans is crawling out from beneath the desk, dusting the metaphorical dust off his uniform. 

“didn’t take you for an exhibitionist,” he says, his voice only the slightest bit hoarse. “aren’t you worried gerson would find out?" 

“It was a calculated risk,” Grillby says smoothly. 

“if you say so, boss,” Sans says flippantly, and Grillby remembers again how inappropriate this entire relationship is. He watches his intern stretch, crackling knuckles and popping joints, and wonders - maybe they’ll understand, he thinks, maybe if he invites Sans to the dinner tomorrow… 

“well, back to work - " 

“Wait,” Grillby blurts out. 

Sans obliges - and for once Grillby is at a loss for words - because no. No one would accept the premises of their relationship, not when Grillby had the upper hand of controlling Sans’ future, even though he would never coerce him into anything. He couldn’t invite Sans out for dinner or lunch or anything that could be construed as anything other than official, lest it be judged - and Sans would get the brunt of it, wouldn’t he? No other place would want to hire him if they knew, and he was a smart kid, really, he would go so far… 

“Grillbz?” Sans says, hesitant. 

He should break this relationship before they get too attached. Sans was still young, he could still find someone more suitable for his age. He should… 

“G-Get me a cup of coffee, would you?” Grillby says instead. 

“Sure thing,” Sans says, and disappears without a sound. Grillby stares at the spot where he had been standing, before putting his face in his hands. 

He’d do it next time. He has to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oops i angsted.

**Author's Note:**

> [pssst. too little chapters?](http://sweetsinnerchild.tumblr.com)


End file.
